


Musical Interludes

by fawatson



Category: The Charioteer - Mary Renault
Genre: Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 13:05:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2310635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fawatson/pseuds/fawatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laurie Odell's life and relationships after the war are punctuated by four songs with strong memories and associations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Musical Interludes

**Author's Note:**

> **Originally posted to:** maryrenaultfics at LiveJournal on 14/09/2014  
>  **Originally written for:** September 2014 Challenge  
>  **Prompt:** 75th anniversary of the start of WWII  
>  **Mentioned:** Bim Taylor  
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters and make no profit by them.  
>  **Author’s Notes:**  
>  (a) The Proms concerts continued to run throughout WWII but bombing led to them being moved to Bedford.  
> (b) Ralph Vaughan Williams wrote an elaborate arrangement of the Old 100th hymn for the coronation of Elizabeth II.  
> (c) Michael Flanders and Donald Swann wrote and performed songs providing gentle social and political satire in the 1950s and 1960s. They had been friends since boyhood. Flanders served with the RNVR during the war; he served on the HMS _Marne_ which participated in Convoy PQ-15 in April 1942, and helped to rescue survivors from the HMS _Punjabi_ when it was sunk. Swann was a conscientious objector and served with the ambulance service in Egypt, Palestine and Greece. The lyric quoted is from 'A Song of Reproduction'. Further information about _At The Drop of a Hat_ and Flanders and Swann can be found at: http://www.nyanko.pwp.blueyonder.co.uk/fas/index.html.  
>  (d) The film _Battle of Britain_ was released in September 1969. There were two musical scores for this film: William Walton’s ‘Battle in the Air’ and Ron Goodwin’s ‘Aces High’.

** Musical Interludes  **

**_Sept 1946_**

Laurie found himself trying to manage very mixed feelings as the final section of the concert started: unexpected feelings – unwelcome feelings. A few weeks ago he had been shocked to learn that Andrew had never been to a Proms concert, until, that is, he’d really _thought_ about it. _Of course_ he hadn’t. He’d effectively gone straight from school to war. And while yes, the Proms had continued, at first Andrew hadn’t been in London and then he’d been too busy during the worst of the blitz. Quite soon he’d been posted abroad and, once he had moved back to London, they had fled the doodlebugs. Thus had Andrew missed that right of passage of many young adults of his class: the Proms. Laurie had fond memories of coming up to London with friends the first time he’d been at Oxford, of queuing for entry, of the camaraderie within the line, and high spirits once they got in – even of the rude calls and whistles. It was all part of the tradition. He looked in the newspaper and saw the announcement for a lovely Mozart programme and suggested it. Andrew looked hesitant at first. He had nothing suitable to wear, he explained. But once Laurie reassured him on that point, he had quickly endorsed the suggestion, just not that night. There was an educational lecture planned at the Meeting House that he really wanted to attend. Somehow, something clashed with the next two concerts Laurie suggested, until, in the end, it was last night. If they didn’t go tonight they would be unable to go for a full year. At a suitably early hour the two made their way to the Royal Albert Hall where events followed much as Laurie remembered them from all those years before. There was something very comforting about that. So much had changed with the war but not this: the Proms were eternal. Laurie relaxed and let his thoughts drift with the music, just _enjoying_ for once. Until ‘Rule Britannia’, that is. 

He sang along with everyone else. _Andrew_ sang. In his light tenor. Laurie found himself missing the deeper baritone range he remembered hearing bellowing this song in the bathroom every time Ralph had had a good soak. He was conscious of disloyalty. Andrew deserved better. That relationship had ended and for good reason. Ralph was a sailor, after all, and liked to travel; Laurie liked the stability of being in one place. It created a fundamental and ultimately irreconcilable difference, particularly after a certain letter arrived and Laurie had realised Ralph felt no sense of obligation when he was halfway across the world. And he need feel no sense of guilt about his relationship with Andrew. They had not even been in correspondence at the time Ralph had moved out from Laurie’s flat, had not chanced to run into one another for a good six months afterward. Nevertheless, he missed that baritone. The song needed a baritone. Laurie felt increasingly uncomfortable as the concert hall, orchestra, choir and audience progressed through ‘Land of Hope and Glory’, ‘Jerusalem’, to ‘God Save the Queen’. Ralph would have loved the programme and sung with fervour. Beside Laurie, Andrew sang quietly, politely. But at the last, when they all linked hands for ‘Auld Lang Syne,’ Laurie could see visible emotion on his friend’s face. It was not the point when _he_ had felt emotions catch in his throat; but he must not forget how gruelling the ambulance service had been. They had all lost people; they must not forget. 

**_June 1953_ **

In the end it proved quite difficult to celebrate quietly. Lying did not come easy to him, a fact which continually surprised Laurie given he was always conscious, at least at some level, of living a lie. Andrew was ‘a friend’; they shared a flat ‘because London is so expensive and it is just so difficult to find accommodation’; he had been in love ‘but it just didn’t work out’ (though in his heart Laurie always knew that one at least was the truth, albeit in relation to Ralph, not some nameless fictitious girlfriend). Queen Elizabeth’s coronation would stand out regardless, but against the backdrop of the normally dreary gray landscape of post-war ration-book Britain it shone as a bright beacon of hope. Even with an end finally in sight for rationing, the country was excited at this opportunity to splurge on luxuries as one normally would not. Elizabeth II had been a slip of a teenager during the war; he remembered seeing laudatory Pathe footage about her war service. Now she was a grown woman, married and with children. Now she was Queen. The country celebrated their beautiful new monarch, symbol of peace and hope. Hell, the whole _world_ celebrated. But it was only his little corner of the world that he was concerned about. He had had so many invitations to so many street parties and dinners it had proven quite hard not to attend one – hence, in the end, the lies. 

“Thank you so much; but I already have plans. I was invited to...” (at which point he inserted whichever fictional celebration he was attending as far removed from the listener as possible). Thus his mother thought he was attending some party in town; while all his town friends thought he would be in the country. It only remained to keep his stories straight. Andrew, of course, did not approve. He would have preferred Laurie to be honest. And in the end he had made Laurie into an honest man through gentle persuasion and persistent invitation to the celebration organised by the Friends’. Normally Laurie kept himself aloof from this aspect of Andrew’s life. He respected Andrew’s faith, of course; but he remained Church of England (though sometimes he wondered whether that really had any meaning for him, particularly given the established church’s obdurate stance about homosexuality). 

One of the wealthier members of the Friends had a television set. It was a luxury well beyond Laurie’s and Andrew’s means. It was to be a focal point for the party. For the first time in history a monarch’s coronation was going to be broadcast live by the BBC. Until today Laurie had been determined to remain at home. He would listen to the coronation on the radio, but he had no interest in becoming caught up with the frenzied celebrations of the capital. He was not going to try to get as close as possible to Westminster to catch a fleeting glimpse of her in the carriage as she went by. He was not going to.... The look of unspoken disappointment as Andrew paused at the door to their flat, just about to leave, led to that last minute change of heart. 

And so here he was now: in a beautifully appointed home in Bedford Park, crowded, like all the other guests, round a television set. A rather stout middle-aged woman with a bouffant hairdo sat squarely in front of him, so to suggest he was _watching_ the coronation would perhaps be stretching the truth. But he was listening, intently. For the first time at a coronation, the congregation was singing, not just the choir. He thought the Old 100th an inspired choice; it had always been a favourite, at least of his. Looking round the quiet gathering of Friends he was not sure whether or not they had ever heard it before. But hearing it now, sung so magnificently with such a rousing trumpet fanfare, seeing the glitter and pageantry of this most traditional ceremony, could _any_ not agree: ‘Come ye before Him and rejoice!’ 

**_November 1956_ **

Laurie was surprised to see Andrew’s choice. He had kept this very quiet! The show had taken London by storm and tickets were hard to come by. 

“He’s a Friend,” explained Andrew. “I didn’t like to do it – presume, I mean,” he said somewhat obscurely, “But for our anniversary...to celebrate us being together...well I wanted it to be special.” 

They were waiting outside the Fortune Theatre for the doors to open. A queue was forming for box office returns so Laurie and Andrew had moved along the pavement to stand by a poster advertising the show while Laurie had a cigarette. 

“I met Donald Swann when we were both in Greece during the war,” Andrew continued. “We weren’t in the same crew but, well, it was a small unit. Everyone knew one another. I thought he might remember, so I wrote to ask for tickets and he _did_ and well...here we are,” Andrew finished a bit lamely. 

“ _At The Drop of a Hat_ ,” said Laurie. “It’s a strange name for a show. Do you know what it’s about? 

“No idea,” Andrew confessed. “One of the chaps I work with went a few weeks ago; he said it was very funny.” 

The opening of the theatre doors coincided with Laurie finishing his cigarette, so no response was necessary. But as they made their way to their seats Laurie couldn’t help but wonder what was in store. His tastes tended to be that little bit more traditional than Andrew’s. Possibly it was the Quaker influence, possibly just Andrew’s individuality; he really could not say. Still, even if this show proved not to be his cup of tea, it was the thought that counted. 

Laurie was, however, pleasantly surprised, and found himself chuckling as they made their way to the bar in the interval. “What was that they said: _negative feedback coupled in with your..._ oh, I can’t remember exactly. They’d got the jargon down pat: sounded just like Gerald from next door when he goes on about his latest bit of radio equipment.” 

“Hello, Spud.” 

Laurie looked round, eyes widening in surprise. “Ralph!” 

“Can I get you and your friend a drink?” 

“Oh!” Laurie floundered, at a loss for what to say, until Ralph’s eyes dropped and with a brief, “Sorry,” he turned to go. He was stymied from making an escape, however, as the crush at the bar was simply too great. 

In the end it was Andrew whose essential kindness rose to smooth over awkwardness, salvaging the situation. “Hullo, I don’t think we’ve met before.” He gestured at Ralph’s uniform. “You must have met Laurie during the war. I’m Andrew.” 

“Andrew,” Ralph repeated in thoughtful tones. It was clear to Laurie that while Ralph’s name might not have registered with Andrew the same was not true for Ralph. “No, Laurie and I were at school together long before the war, though we did meet up during the blitz.” 

“Are you with anyone tonight?” asked Andrew politely, looking round for someone who might be waiting.” 

“Not tonight,” Ralph replied. “I saw Flanders’ picture on the billboard quite by chance and queued to get a ticket. I knew _him_ in the war too.” 

“Really? What a small world it is! Donald Swann and I were in the Friend’s Ambulance Unit together.” Andrew sounded quite delighted to discover the connection. Laurie wondered silently if Andrew would be quite so pleased once he realised the connection to his encounter with Bunny in Bridstow. 

“How did you know Flanders?” Laurie asked Ralph. 

“He fished me out of the sea when the _Punjabi_ sank in 1942.” 

“Oh, dear – again.” Even as he said it, Laurie felt it a lame response, but what did one say? 

“Again?” Andrew queried, as he handed drinks round. 

“Laurie’s remembering that I landed in the drink in 1940 when my boat was shot out from under me during Dunkirk,” Ralph said tersely. 

“And yet you are still in the navy,” said Andrew. “You must love the life.” 

“No, merchant marine,” corrected Ralph. “I have to rejoin my ship by midnight tonight, else I’d not be here in uniform. I was on my way to the tube station when I saw the poster; this was impulse.”

“And a very fortunate impulse for us, else we’d not have met,” Andrew smiled. “And what do you think of the show?”

Laurie watched silently as Ralph and Andrew chatted about the revue with every sign of enjoyment. They did not have long. The warning bell sounded and they parted, Ralph heading for the stairs while they returned to the stalls. After the show, Laurie kept an eye on the lookout as they shuffled their way toward the exit; but there was no glimpse of his old friend. 

Much later, in bed, Andrew said softly, “I remember now how I heard Ralph’s name before. He was your friend from Bridstow, wasn’t he?” 

“Yes.” 

“I see now, my dear, what you saw in him.”

_**October 1969** _

Laurie fumbled in his pocket for his handkerchief as the screen flashed Churchill’s famous pronouncement: _Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few._ As the final sequence of the film rolled, he blew his nose hard, wiped his eyes, then blew again. The music of the finale rose rich with triumph and full of emotion as statistics scrolled down: 1822 Royal Air Force pilots, 339 of them killed in action, one of whom he could claim to have known, albeit very briefly. Had it really been like that for Bim? Everything about the film seemed so clean; he remembered war being a filthy business: smelly, sweaty, grimy. Yet, the newspaper review had said the film director had gone to great pains to ensure historical accuracy. The phrase grated: historical accuracy! He had _lived_ through the Battle of Britain! It wasn’t that long ago! 

He had lived... _he_ had...Bim hadn’t. His ‘battle’ was long over, ended by his leg wound, at a time when Bim was still fighting. So many memories from 1940 were dim; but he could recall Bim clearly: a dapper little man with a pencil thin moustache, strung out on booze and whatever tablets he’d been taking, obnoxiously camp, maliciously witty, haemorrhaging emotional pain. He recalled Ralph’s gentleness. Yes, Ralph had always shown compassion to the human failings of someone pushed beyond all possible endurance, perhaps because he had been only too aware of his own limitations. 

The movie theatre was empty now save for a lone cleaner (who was picking up the discarded empty popcorn containers) and him. Laurie wiped his nose one last time before stuffing his hanky into a pocket. His leg had stiffened as he watched the film and it gave way now as he tried to stand. He took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, and leaned heavily on his walking stick as he walked up the slight incline to the exit. He blinked as he emerged into the brightly lit lobby of the Leicester Square cinema; the glare of the lights hurt his eyes. 

“I thought that was you.” 

Oh, the inevitability of it, Laurie thought, as he turned. _Of course_ he would run into someone he knew. 

“You haven’t changed,” he said by way of greeting.

“Nor you,” agreed Alec. “I see that leg still bothers you some. Do you need to sit?”

“No, I’m afraid that’s the problem: too much sitting.” 

“Care to walk it out with me?” asked Alec. “My friend didn’t care to see the film – thought it would bring back too many bad memories – so I came on my own, though we agreed to meet for a drink afterwards. You were on your own too, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” said Laurie. 

“No...Andrew – wasn’t it?” 

“Yes, Andrew; and no – no Andrew.”

“I’m sorry. I’d thought that had worked out for you.” At Laurie’s puzzled look Alec added quickly, “One hears these things on the grapevine, as it were.” 

“It did work,” Laurie said, “only, he was killed in a motoring accident several months ago.” 

“I am sorry,” said Alec. “True happiness in relationships is so rare in our circles, one can only rejoice when one sees it, and feel sadness when it is snatched away.” 

Laurie thought it a peculiarly detached, almost academic way of offering condolence; but Alec seemed sincere. At one time Laurie knew he would have felt on edge at the way Alec casually included him in his ‘circle’. He still did not really feel comfortable with the idea. The decriminalisation of homosexuality two years ago had not really substantially changed public attitudes. The press seemed to be renaming queers now, starting to call them ‘gay’ instead, as if a name change would make it different. You could call homosexuals whatever you wanted, they were still ridiculed in popular culture. But years of contentment with Andrew had reconciled him to his own lifestyle preferences, which, as the new ‘flower-power’ generation continually showed him, were eternally ‘square’, notwithstanding his sexual preference for men over women. Somehow Laurie doubted Alec had experienced similar contentment. 

He had a sudden horrifying thought. “That friend you’re going to meet: it’s not Sandy is it?” He remembered the on-again, off-again relationship the two had had during the war. 

Alec laughed, “I haven’t seen Sandy in _years_. No, I’m meeting Ralph.” 

“Ralph!” They had been walking slowly in the direction of St Martin’s Lane; now Laurie stopped abruptly. “You’re with _Ralph_ again?”

“Not in the way you mean.” Alec smiled. “You were right you know, all those years ago when you told me I was more doctor than queer. Trying to be both, _especially_ before they changed the law, just became impossible. But Ralph and I have stayed in touch with each other and he usually visits me when his ship docks.”

“He’s still sailing?” 

“Captain of his own vessel and has been for a few years now. Runs a tight ship from all I’ve heard, not that I really know anything about it, you understand. But for all that, soft as butter on the inside, so he just couldn’t face seeing the _Battle of Britain_.” 

“Oh....”

“He’d like to see you again,” Alex coaxed gently. 

Laurie surrendered to impulse. “And I’d like to see him.”


End file.
